The Grim
by Somizura
Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?
1. Chapter 1

The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. There. I said it. Now I'm never gonna say it again. Maybe.

This is the first chapter of The Grim, which is set starting from the beginning of the Prisoner of Azkaban. For people who've read this before, I've edited parts of it, so not all of it is the same. Mind you, I've edited it because I couldn't get back into the flow of the story and update. It has been a bit more than five months, so... meh. Enjoy.

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He had blown up his aunt. He had blown up his AUNT. He had BLOWN UP his aunt. It was as though someone up there really hated him. Of course there was. How else did he become what he was? Harry Potter, boy extraordinaire, the Boy-Who-Lived, savior of the Wizarding World, and the holder of many other unnecessary titles. And how did he come by them? His dead parents. What kind of exchange was that?

If anything, he had gotten the short end of the stick. What stick? Who cares about a bloody stick? That stick should just burst into flames or something. It was like the gods had selected randomly, and just decided to pick on him. _Him_. Why him? Of all the other people in the world, why _him_? There were billions of people in the world… and a couple million Wizards among those billions. What were the chances that the gods decided to gang up on him and compete to see who could make his life the most miserable?

And now, after blowing up his aunt, he was going to be chucked into prison as soon as the authorities caught him.

'_What did Malfoy call it again? Alakazam? Az… Azkaban? Something like that. The point is that Hagrid stayed there for three months or so, and utterly hated the place… and if _Hagrid_ couldn't take it, how am _I_ supposed to?'_ Harry shook his head. Although being in Hogwarts for two years had a beneficial effect on his body, he was still shorter and punier than his peers.

Scowling, Harry let go of his trunk and fell onto the sidewalk, ignoring the pain of impact with the concrete as he idly twirled his wand between his hands. Such a fragile object. And yet, it was one of his most prized possessions, along with his photo album, his Nimbus 2000, and his Invisibility Cloak. His _father's_ Invisibility Cloak, and one of his last connections to the parents he had never gotten to know. And yet, within a few short hours (if he had even that), this wand was going to be snapped.

This wand gave him his first experience of doing magic and manipulating it to do his will. It gave him confidence, power, and a sense of himself, a sense of _belonging_. And in that same way, Hogwarts had become his home. It was only for a short, yet memorable, two years, but those two years were the most dangerous, yet best years of his entire life. And that would all be gone simply because he _couldn't control his bloody temper_.

He was angry at himself, but like any other normal teenager, he pushed the blame on someone else, anyone else. His uncle, for inviting his aunt to visit. His aunt, for insulting his parents. Even Professor McGonagall, for sending the stupid permission slip that started the entire fiasco. And yet, he knew that he shouldn't have lashed out like that.

"Good going, Potter," he muttered bitterly, letting out a low chuckle that stopped as soon as it started.

Staring down, he ran his hand lightly over the pavement. The tiny granules of sand and dirt stuck to his skin, falling in a _pitter-patter_-like action back down when he rubbed his fingertips together. It was oddly mesmerizing… or hypnotizing at least. A yell grabbed his attention, and looking backwards, he caught sight of his now bloated aunt, who now resembled one of those large balloons that he saw in a parade on the telly. Harry grinned at his small act of revenge. Even if the Ministry of Magic arrived to deal with damage control, and Marge was to be Obliviated, at least his guardians would become well aware of the threat he posed, that he wasn't just a powerless little _child_.

Harry groaned, running his hand through his messy, untamable hair, freezing that movement when the bush across the street suddenly shook, causing a few leaves to flutter to the ground. It could have been reasoned that the cause was simply the wind passing through, but that argument would have been stronger if the trees had rustled as well. He immediately reached down for his wand and held it tightly, waiting for his apprehender to appear. Though he wasn't attacked yet, he was positive it was an Auror in those bushes.

His anxiety grew as he waited for the Auror to appear. His grip on his wand tightened as his arm noticeably tensed, causing the wand to shoot a few sparks from the end, almost as if they were a representation of his frazzled nerves. He vaguely heard a few cars passing by on a main street nearby, his family's yells from the house he just left, and the shifting of his clothing. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes.

'_What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?'_ The dog, large and black, though it could have been just an effect due to the lighting, padded over to him, making sure to look both ways before crossing the street. '_Looking both ways? What kind of dog was this?'_ Harry suddenly imagined one of those Muggle cartoons that Dudley had watched, with animals on two legs and talking like humans. He was still sitting in shock when the dog reached him, put something down on the street, and then nudged his arm with its head, whining.

Looking down, he saw a leaf with dog slobber on it. The dog pushed the leaf towards him with his nose, and so Harry reached down for it, grabbing it by its stem. Making sure to not touch the drool, he examined the leaf carefully, feeling like an idiot. Here he was, sitting on the curb with a wand in hand, his Nimbus propped up carefully on his trunk, staring at a leaf because the stray dog sitting in front of him practically told him to.

Finding nothing except slobber on the leaf, he was about to say just that, before something caught his attention. "'Please don't be surprised,'" he read, squinting his eyes to read the dull pencil-writing on the leaf in the light. "Please don't be surprised? Surprised about what?" Harry looked down at the dog as though the dog could answer. Why was he assuming that the dog _could_ answer? In fact, why was he assuming that the dog even wrote this note? The stress from waiting for the Aurors to swoop down on him where he sat must have been getting to him.

The dog looked up at him pitifully, its eyes enlarging to impossible proportions, making it close to impossible for Harry to deny it. He smiled crookedly and decided to humor the dog. "Okay, I'll try to not be surprised. Now, what is going on?"

'_Merlin, Potter. You've really cracked now. Blowing up your aunt, talking to dogs, talking to yourself in your head as though you were a different entity. Simply brilliant on your part.'_

'_Do shut up.'_

'_And now you're having conversations in your mind... and telling yourself to shove off. Keep this up, and you'll be as insane as Dumbledore himself.'_

'_Dumbledore's not insane!'_

'_But he's not exactly sane, now is he?'_

Sometime during his conversation with himself, the dog placed a hand on the wand. Harry stiffened. One false move, and the giant dog could accidently snap his wand. The dog looked into his eyes and Harry was slightly unsettled by the icy blue eyes that were gazing at him so desperately. And within seconds, just like what happened in his first Transfiguration class, the animal was replaced with a human. Harry stared at the man, before recognition lit his eyes and he narrowed them.

"You!" He tried to stand up and move back, but there was limited space due to the man that was sitting right at his feet. The paw that was on his wand had moved to his wrist, and in its place was a hand. Harry gritted his teeth and pulled at his arm. Realizing that it was a lost cause, Harry settled with pointing the wand at the man with his fingers since his hand almost immobile.

"You're Sirius Black! You're the one they were talking about on the telly." Harry growled, before pausing. "B- but… you… you're an Animagus… a _Wizard_?"

Sirius smiled ruefully, his eyes showing amusement at Harry's stammering, and bent down and picked up the leaf. "I _did_ tell you to not be surprised," He murmured in a scolding manner, his voice croaking from possible disuse. He let out a bark of a laugh that sounded almost haunted.

Upon a closer look, Harry noticed that Sirius really was just skin and bone, but his grip never gave off that impression. His eyes were sunken into an ashen face. His hair was matted and streaked with gray. After a moment of laughing, Sirius looked at Harry, his eyes warm and loving, and looking out of place, but Harry saw the crazed part of him, created from his time in prison.

And that reminded him. Prison. This man in front of him was a prisoner, sent there for the murder of about a dozen Muggles. And yet, he stood in front of him as though he didn't have the entire Muggle world, and even perhaps the Wizarding world, on the lookout for him.

"Who are you?" The question slipped out of him before he registered it.

"Merlin, Harry, I thought we've been through this already. I'm Sirius Black, of course."

"Who are you really? How do you know who I am?"

"Harry," he began, his voice still raspy. "Look, this isn't the place to talk about this."

Harry started. He had entirely forgotten that they were still in Surrey, two wizards in the middle of a neighborhood of Muggles.

"How do I know what you aren't leading me to my death? You _are_ a murderer after all." Harry kept his wand pointed steadily at the man.

If he tried anything, then Harry would attack first. He was already used to life-threatening situations, if Voldemort, a demented and possessed professor, a couple dozen man-eating Acromantulas, a vengeful memory from the past, and a Basilisk counted for anything.

At this, Sirius chuckled darkly. "Harry, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done so already."

Harry nodded at the truth of those words. "And where do you suppose we should go? And how?"

"The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black is located at number twelve Grimmauld Place," Sirius muttered, breaking eye contact with Harry as he glanced around them. Even though he was only a foot away from the convict, Harry just barely caught the words, sending a quizzical glance at him, mulling over the words just spoken.

Sirius glanced down at the leaf, wiped it on his… shirt, if it could even be called that, before stuffing it in Harry's free hand. He moved to place a hand on his trunk and broomstick and whispered, "Please don't be surprised." Harry's eyes widened at the familiar sensation of being forced down a tube. Side-along Apparation.

And he cursed to whatever god was listening at the moment about sticks and receiving the short ends of them as Privet Drive instantly disappeared.

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I hate my computer. It is so frustratingly slow... I'll need to get a new one soon. I think using this computer actually managed to shave off a few years of my life. How depressing.


	2. Chapter 2

The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

Just like chapter one, chapter two has been edited. I would like to mention that this chapter may get a bit boring because of the whole explanation thing, but I didn't just pull it out of the book, so that _should_ be okay, I guess.

* * *

Harry groaned when his feet reached solid ground. He wrenched his arm out of Sirius's grip and stumbled, unsteady from the sudden movement.

Harry grasped the nearest item, a square table, for support and heaving loudly, ignoring the inch of dust that his fingers sank into. When he finally trusted himself not to puke at his next movement, he slowly righted himself, wiping his hands on his jeans, still holding onto his wand. Sure, he was still feeling a bit woozy, but at least he wasn't covering the floor and himself with what he last ate, not that he actually ate all that much before storming out of the Dursley's.

Looking around, he realized he couldn't see a thing. He was shrouded in darkness and stuck with a murderer that he couldn't even see. Life was conspiring with Death to get him killed apparently. Harry gripped his wand and decided to throw all caution to the wind. He was already expelled from Hogwarts. What was another one or two spells? With this in mind, he held up the wand and murmured, "_Lumos._"

_Not_ the smartest thing he ever did. The illumination caused two cries to sound. "Harry! Put that thing down! Are you trying to blind us both?" Sirius faced the other way, one arm covering his eyes and the other waving frantically at Harry, gesturing for him to point the wand down.

Harry gratefully obliged, rubbing his own eyes with the back of his other hand. He didn't know why, but the light was rather dim, which was unusual, but he was still seeing dots… lots of them. Soon however, he got used to the lighting and decided to ignore the few stray dots he was imagining.

"Where are we?" The place was _filthy_. It was a cobwebs and dust galore. Sure, Harry had spent most of his life in a cupboard and spiders were an everyday occurrence, but this much dust was shocking. The air was stale, and he would have decided not to breathe if it weren't for the fact that he needed to do so. Still, that knowledge didn't stop him from trying, as he held his breath for as long as he could, but his brain forced him to inhale before he caused himself to pass out. The sharp intake of air he took caused him to choke slightly and sent him into a coughing fit.

'_Note to self: Never act like a prat and think that I'm above breathing.'_

"Kreacher's been slacking off, the nasty little bugger," Sirius growled, trying not to stir up any of the dust that surrounded him. "KREACHER!" he yelled.

'_Kreacher? Someone actually _lived_ in this? This _can't _be good for their health… whoever they are…'_

His thoughts were put to a pause when he heard a rather familiar _crack_ and something Apparated between Harry and Sirius. Harry could only see the back, but the large ears already told him that it was a House Elf. He already had his fair share of House Elves and knew that they, or Dobby at least, were quirky, to say in the least. While Dobby was at least wearing a pillowcase, Kreacher seemed to be wearing just a rag, or a cloth of some kind, around his lower body. It was still difficult to see any details on the House Elf though, since Harry's wand was the only source of light.

"Master Sirius is back." Kreacher stated, with what seemed to be a resentful tone, after giving a mechanical bow. "What does Master Sirius require of Kreacher?"

Sirius stared down at Kreacher with utter loathing. "Kreacher, you are to clean up. Do not leave the house. Do not contact anyone besides me or Harry here." He gestured towards Harry, but Kreacher never turned to glance at the boy in question.

"Kreacher will go clean, Master Sirius." He croaked, and magically caused the dust around them to fly in the air and come to a stop in a corner, before banishing the pile, all while muttering, "Poor Mistress. This house is shamed now that the blood-traitor is back. But Kreacher can't do anything. Oh how the Mistress will despair…"

Harry watched the House Elf, craning his neck as Kreacher stepped out of view into the next room. Sometime during this whole scene, the lights were turned on and Sirius had taken a seat at the now glisteningly clean table, watching him carefully. "Do take a seat. I would be a rude host to let my guest remain standing."

"_Nox_." The light at the end of his wand was put out and he stuffed it into his pocket. Harry carefully pulled out a seat on the opposite end of the table, the slight scraping of the ornate chair against the polished hardwood floor. He absentmindedly noted that it didn't squeak and creak like the Dursleys' did.

Ron had told him that House Elves usually came with ancient pureblood families with loads of money. The Black family apparently fell into that category, probably on the same level as the Malfoys. If that was true, then why was the house in such a state?

Harry sat and eyed Sirius warily. Silence fell over them as the two stared at each other. Actually, it was more that Sirius closely observing him while Harry fidgeted self-consciously. "…You look so much like James when we first met, you know?" Sirius was the first one to speak.

"You knew my father?" Harry asked, shocked.

Why did a murderer talk as though he knew his father? Everyone seemed to know his parents for the sacrifice they made for him. They'd always comment on the fact that he looked so much like his father, or that he looked so much like James Potter. Sirius addressed his father on a personal level, and was the only one to say that he looked so much like _James_. This man didn't associate James as _his_ father. Rather, he associated Harry as _James's_ son.

"Yeah, I was his best mate… back from eons and eons ago when we still attended Hogwarts."

Harry breathed in sharply. "What was dad like? Do I really look like how he did when he was younger? Did you know my mum as well? What was she like?" The questions spilled out of him, and for a moment, Harry forgot that the man in front of him was an escaped convict from prison. For a moment, Harry felt like a little child again, desperate for information about the parents he never knew. And in front of him was someone who claimed to be his father's best friend.

Sirius chuckled. "Obviously, no one ever told you about the circumstances surrounding your parents' deaths… That's good though. You would have believed the lies as well then."

And just like that, the moment passed and the man in front of him was a murderer again. "Circumstances? What circumstances? What does that have to do with my parents' death? Lies? What are you talking about?"

There was a pause. A long pause that probably lasted a span of five seconds, but Harry forced himself to stay calm. If he snapped again, he may never get the full story.

'_Harry, he could be lying to you.'_ The thought had popped up, but he banished it towards the back of his mind, where he didn't have to pay it heed. Because he didn't care if this was a lie or not. Because he just wanted to know his parents.

"Harry, what I'm going to tell you is the truth, you understand? I just ask that you listen to the entire story. You still have that leaf?" At the hesitant nod, Sirius continued. "Well, I really wanted to write 'Please don't freak out and be irrational', but there were space issues." He shrugged good-naturedly. "Can you do that for me though? Just listen to the whole story, and then you can yell at me, okay?"

Sirius's face was calm. It could even be said that he had an amused air around him. Harry grimaced, clenching his fist. _'How dare he be like that… when we're about to talk about my parents' death?' _ Upon a closer look however, Harry could see the pleading man behind the façade. Sirius's face was tense as he waited for an answer. Harry wanted to cry out that he was insane. That he didn't want to hear anything from a murderer anymore. "Sure." The word popped out of his mouth before he knew it. And he realized, he wanted to learn more about his parents, even if it was about their deaths and even from a killer. He wanted to know _something_.

A breath was released and Sirius relaxed. "I first met James on the Hogwarts Express at the start of our first year," he began, eyes becoming unfocused as if he started seeing something that only he could see. By the end of our first year, we came out with four people in our group: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin…" He paused, his face forming a sneer. "And Peter Pettigrew." He spat.

Harry blinked at the look of animosity. "The four of us were the best of friends, titled… _the Marauders_." At this, there was a proud tone, and a smile snaked across his face. "That was the name that we took on. Over the seven years at Hogwarts, we grew closer. James was always infatuated with Lily and they ended up getting together in our seventh year. It came as quite a shock to the rest of our year when they dated. Everyone _swore _that they would never be able to even stand being in the same room together.

"The two married, and then they had you. We were so… _happy_." Sirius looked at him, but Harry wasn't too sure whether or not Sirius actually saw him. "Lily would never let you out of her sight the first few months. James on the other hand, was such a mess. His wand was always sending out red and yellow sparks every time he carried you… saw you… _thought _of you. He was put on paperwork duty because of that." Sirius laughed quietly, which seemed so much louder in the otherwise deathly silent room, since Harry was intent on memorizing everything being told to him.

"And then, Dumbledore decided to drop a bomb on us all and told us about the _prophecy_." His face warped.

He was furious, Harry could tell, and thus was rather unsure about whether or not to ask. He deserved to know about this _prophecy_. "Um…" Sirius snapped out of his internal rage at the quiet sound. "What _is_ this 'prophecy'?"

Sirius froze. "Y– you don't know? Dumbledore never told you?" Harry shook his head. What hadn't Dumbledore told him? Sirius's eyes clouded over and his hands that were clasped together on the table shook. "Dumbledore never told you… he never told you?" Shaking his head, he swallowed, trying to swallow his rage as well.

"I don't know the exact words, but this… prophecy told us that a child that would be born at the end of seventh month, July, from parents that defied Voldemort three times would be the Dark Lord's downfall. Somehow Voldemort found out about the prophecy and set out to kill the prophesized child. Your parents defied him three times… and you…"

"I was born on July 31st... the end of the seventh month." Harry said, bitterly, understanding that _he_ might have been the reason his parents were killed. That fact lingered uncomfortably in his mind. Because he was born… his parents died. "So I should have never been born, eh?"

Sirius remained silent glancing down at his own hands. "No," He breathed out. Harry glanced up at the man. Sirius should have _hated _him. What did he mean by _no_? "No," Sirius repeated. "It wasn't your fault… It was mine." Narrowing his eyes, Harry tried to figure out what Sirius was implying.

"What?" The question was unnaturally piercing in the room that they were in, and came to settle down around them.

"And so, to protect you, the Fidelius Charm was to be cast," Sirius continued. His avoiding the question caused Harry to purse his lips in a very McGonagall-like action. "The Fidelius Charm can be cast on a household, causing it to be unseen and so that no one could locate it. The only one who would know the whereabouts would be the Secret Keeper, and only the Secret Keeper would be able to tell people where it was. Without the Secret Keeper telling you, you wouldn't be able to find the house. Voldemort could have been pressing his nose right to the window and he would have never known.

"I – I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper. Just listen, _please_." He looked at Harry with such pain, that Harry didn't try to attack or hex the man in front of him. "I was supposed to be the Secret Keeper. I was James's best mate. We were closer than brothers and we trusted each other. He knew it, I knew it, and unfortunately, Voldemort knew it too. I convinced James to make _Peter_ the Secret Keeper however.

"Peter was small and weak. No one would ever suspect such a pathetic being to be the Secret Keeper. That way, Voldemort would be after me, thinking that I was the Secret Keeper, when in reality, Peter would be the one with the secret. It was the perfect plan, and no one knew about the switch other than me, James, and Peter. It would have worked… if Peter didn't betray us." Harry froze. His parents died because of their _friend_?

"Peter apparently, was on Voldemort's side some time after we left Hogwarts. It must have been his greatest moment: selling the entire Potter family to his master. James. Because of him, James died. My best friend died because of him. James and Lily died because of my mistake. My stupid, _stupid_ mistake." Sirius laughed insanely, his voice cracking at the very end.

"It all happened barely a week later. It just popped out of nowhere. I went to check up Peter like I was supposed to, every week. The day I visited, he wasn't there. Something was up. Peter would have been too frightened to even _look _outside. He was a coward like that. Why wouldn't he be inside? I got to the house as fast as I could… but not fast enough apparently." He looked furiously down. What he was looking at, Harry didn't know. Maybe he was glaring at the memory. Maybe he was glaring at Pettigrew in his mind. Or maybe he was glaring spitefully at his own reflection in the clean mahogany wood of the table.

"James and Lily were dead. I saw their bodies, left as they were when they were dead. James… he fought without a wand, the stupid git." He smiled bitterly. "It's so like him though, to forget about himself to save his loved ones. Lily, she was on the floor. If her eyes were closed, it would have been like she was only asleep. It might have been a bad dream that she was having, but she didn't look dead. And Voldemort was nowhere to be found. Peter wasn't there either. The coward fled.

"I tracked him down and found him the next day. We were on a Muggle street. I was just approaching him. I was just furious and wasn't thinking straight. I should have went to Dumbledore first. I shouldn't have done it in public. But I did it anyway. I was just so _angry. _ My best friend was dead because of something that I decided on. And Peter… he framed me. He yelled out for the entire street to hear, asking me why _I _betrayed James and Lily to Voldemort. He made it out to be that he was confronting me rather than vice versa.

"Then… then he cast a curse, killing twelve nearby Muggles, cut off his finger, and transformed. That finger was the largest part of him that was ever found. He escaped in the chaos, leaving me there to take the blame. And I went to Azkaban for the death of twelve innocent Muggles whom were dead only because they were at the wrong place, at the wrong time."

Harry stayed silent. He shouldn't believe a murderer! The man in front of him was a murderer! But… if his story was true… then Sirius wasn't a murderer. "But… if your story's true… why did you escape now? If you could have always escaped, then why wait for thirteen years to pass? And where is your proof for this story?"

Sirius chuckled, reaching into his robes. Harry tensed, but all he pulled out was a scrap of paper. He flattened it out on the table, not that it did it any good, being as wrinkled as it was, and turned it to face Harry.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. There, in front of him, Ron was waving furiously up at him. The entire Weasley family was there. They looked so happy together in Egypt, as a _family_, that Harry was forced to remember what happened to his own. Shaking his head, he recognized the paper to be the clipping from the _Daily Prophet_ that Ron sent him in his birthday card, the very same clipping in his trunk right now.

"How is this proof?" Sirius jabbed at the rat on Ron's shoulder with a dirty finger, the nail looking as though it had been bitten off.

"_Scabbers_? What does Scabbers have to do with anything?"

"Everything. This 'Scabbers' is Peter Pettigrew."

Harry stared at Sirius. "You're mental! There's no way Scabbers could be Pettigrew! He's Ron's _pet_. And there's no way a human could be so… _useless_. The only thing Scabbers ever did was bite Crabbe's finger on the Hogwarts Express."

Sirius laughed out loud, the sound piercing the silence of the house that they were in. "Then that just may as well be the most productive thing he's ever done. Peter's Animagus is a rat. When I said that the four of us, James, Remus, Peter, and I, used to be the best of friends, I meant it. We all became Animagi together in fifth year. I was the dog that you saw earlier, James was a stag," Harry quickly absorbed that fact. "And Peter… Peter was a _rat_."

"All right, if Peter was a rat, then how do you know that he's Scabbers? You could be mistaken. Scabbers could just be a regular old rat." Despite saying this, Harry didn't quite believe that he was saying.

"I told you. Peter cut off his finger when escaping. That was the largest part found. Well, actually, it was the only part found. And this 'Scabbers' – "

"Is missing a finger on his front paw." Harry breathed out, staring fixedly at the rat on Ron's shoulder that was squirming to get out of view. "Ron told me that he's had Scabbers for twelve years. Rats don't live that long, do they? Scabbers should be dead. But he's still alive. And my parents have been dead for twelve years." Harry clenched his fist, before falling quiet at this new revelation.

Sirius coughed awkwardly. "Harry, did you know… that when you were born… your parents made me your godfather?"

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Aaaannndddd, we're done with the explanation. Sort of. Thanks for all the reviews (Well... the reviews I received for the original chapter two).


	3. Chapter 3

The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

Chapter three blah blah blah edited. Not that much though... I think. I'm a bit sad that I can't depict Sirius's lack of sanity very well. I can't seem to think of a way to do so without having him completely scare Harry away, which mind you, would be against the whole point.

* * *

Harry's heart literally stopped at that statement. He couldn't breathe. He could barely see. The room he was in disappeared from his sight, slowly dissolving away until he could only see the man in front of him. A mistakenly-accused murderer. His father's best friend. His godfather. _Godfather_.

Merlin. How many times had he wished that some relative of his would swoop in on him and take him away from the people he was forced to call his family? How many times did he wish to have some place where he really belongs? Hogwarts had managed to fill in that space, but it couldn't do anything over the summer hols when he was stuck with the Dursleys.

His eyes dilated as they stared at Sirius. His godfather wasn't much to look at, but that most probably would have been because of his stay in prison. There was also a stench in the air, as well as a salty odor. And soon, his mind finally comprehended the current situation. This was _his_ godfather. His legal guardian. The Dursleys weren't his guardians. _The Dursleys weren't his guardians!_ And that realization made him ecstatic… elated…

"Am I going to live with you?" Damn it. His mouth and his brain were going to have a heart-to-heart talk with each other later. That question was _not_ planned. What if Sirius said no? What then?

At this, Sirius grinned. "There's no way in _hell_ I'm letting you back there. Lily and James would _murder _me, _resurrect _me, _skin_ me alive, _re-skin_ me, and then stick my portrait right next to my mum's if I let you go back.

"You see… Lily's mum and dad had this sort of get-together before with both their children and families." His thin, bone-like arms waved in the air as he spoke. "Lily came with James, who then dragged me, who then dragged Remus because he was staning nearby. Peter was busy that day." His face grew momentarily cold at the name. "And we met her _darling_ sister, Petunia, and that large whale of a Muggle, Vernon.

"I have nothing against Muggles. I actually quite like them… and the motorcycle invention of theirs. I actually own a flying one! Poor James was so horrified when it outstripped his Cleansweep." Sirius snickered, clearly remembering that moment when everything was calm. "Anyway, those two Muggles though… James and I were _so_ close to hexing them… Lily and Remy didn't let us, but we still managed to threaten to turn the whale into toad. The fat Muggle's face turned so many colors…" He laughed again. "Of course, you can decide where you want to live." He looked apprehensively at Harry, who suddenly felt a rush of relief and excitement.

"With you." Ah, maybe he really didn't need to have that heart-to-heart talk… "You do have enough room, right? I wouldn't want to impose…" Scratch that thought. His mouth needed to stop talking without consulting with his brain first.

Sirius barked a laugh. His face looked as though it was remembering what it used to do before the owner had landed himself in Azkaban. And Harry could see glimpses of the man that he once was… and hopefully could be again. "Any room?" He spread his arms wide dramatically. "Harry, I have too _much_ room." He stood up. "Come on."

Harry, lugging his belongings with him and with Hedwig's cage in hand, followed Sirius out of the room that they were in, into what looked to be the main hall. There was a door in the center of the wall to the left as well as a grand staircase opposite of it. It wasn't as dusty as he expected. Apparently, House Elves worked extremely fast and the House Elf from before had cleaned up as ordered. The entire hall would have looked more majestic if it weren't for the fact that the dim light cast shadows everywhere.

Up the stairs they went and turned a right. Harry stared at the curtains that were placed seemingly randomly right at the top of the stairs. Turning, he leaned to the side a bit, hoping to glance at what was there.

Sirius noticed his actions and laughed again. "I'll give you the grand tour in the morning."

Now that he had gotten over the shock, Harry was noticing more things that he had looked over. Sirius sounded exhausted and his movements were jerky, like he wanted to make the least amount of movements possible.

Keeping those observations to himself, he followed his godfather to a door that he opened slowly.

"This used to be James's room when he stayed over once after my mum died. He and Remus stayed over for a few days. I never came back here after that. Never thought that I'd ever step foot in this house again."

Harry stiffened at this and entered the room almost reverently. His father had slept in this very room. Sirius stayed at the door, his eyes following the boy who was turning in a circle slowly. He cleared his throat awkwardly and Harry's head snapped towards him. "You explore this room. We left a few things in here, to spite my dead mum I suppose, so you can look at those. I left Kreacher with orders to not let anything leave this room that was in here before, but he might have moved everything. I need to go clean myself up." He gestured towards himself. Apparently, he was aware that he didn't look or smell the best. "After being in prison for so long, you learn to appreciate the small things: flying, showers, the flushable toilet. Merlin bless the flushable toilet." Harry wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh at the last one, settling with a small grin.

"Right… I'll be back soon." Harry nodded and walked to the doorway to watch his Godfather walk down the hall. When Sirius turned to what he assumed was the bathroom, Harry turned back to the room, intent on exploring everything. His attention was caught by photo that was on the wall. His father was sitting under a familiar willow near the lake at Hogwarts with three other people. He ignored the other three, having eyes only for the raven-haired boy that was playing with a Snitch. Harry recognized it as the one he had been chasing after for two years already. James would release the Snitch, and Harry would watch the flashing speck attempt to zoom up, before being caught again.

After a few minutes, he tore his eyes away from the photo and crossed over to the desk. The room itself was rather empty, evidence that his father really had stayed there for only a short time.

Harry looked through all the drawers in a daze. Finding that they were all empty, he turned to the nearby king-sized bed. His father slept in this bed. He knelt on the floor and looked under it. Nothing. With such an expensive floor, Harry was positive that there wouldn't be such a thing as a loose floor board like the one at the Dursleys. Refusing to feel letdown, he stood up swiftly and walked to the wardrobe in the corner. Pulling open the door, his eyes settled on a box in a corner, shrouded in shadow. He hastily picked it up and sat himself on the bed, the box in his lap.

His fingers traced over the lid, his heart thumping loudly. Swallowing heavily, Harry opened it. The box was cluttered. Evidently, his father wasn't organized in the least, he thought amusingly, as his shaking hand reached in and pulled out an album that took up most of the space in the box. It was a photo album with red and gold lines streaking over the covers at random angles over a white background.

He flipped open the cover. There, in the center were the same four boys in what appeared to be the Gryffindor common room, crowded in front of the fireplace, wearing identical grins. Harry absently compared those grins to the ones that Fred and George wore when they had accomplished something worth noting as he memorized his father's face.

_**Mr. Padfoot would like to know why **_**this**_** photo is in the front of the **_**Marauders's **_**photo book. Surely there are better pictures… more **_**worthy**_** pictures of the Marauder name.**_

_**Mr. Prongs would like to tell Mr. Padfoot that Mr. Prongs already explained the matter to him multiple times, and that would be because Lilyflower is in it.**_

_**Mr. Padfoot would like to reiterate to Mr. Prongs that seeing the back of Evans's head doesn't count as being a photo of her.**_

_**Mr. Prongs passionately disagrees and would like to ask Mr. Moony for his opinion.**_

_**Mr. Moony wants Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot to shut the bloody hell up and let Mr. Moony go back to sleep.**_

…

_**Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Padfoot and is in perpetual shock that such words have left Mr. Moony's mouth.**_

_**Mr. Padfoot has snapped out of his stupor and congratulates Mr. Moony on his language.**_

_**Mr. Moony would appreciate not having this book shoved in front of his face and having the quill poke his cheek. Now, Mr. Moony wants to go to sleep or else he shall have to return back to his own room and sleep there.**_

_**Mr. Padfoot begs for forgiveness and for Mr. Moony to not leave Mr. Padfoot alone with Mr. Prongs, who would surely start ranting about the date that Mr. Prongs had with Evans just yesterday.**_

_**Mr. Prongs takes offense to that and would like to comment that he does not rant about Lilyflower. 'Rant' is too harsh of a word to relate to his delicate Lilyflower. Mr. Prongs would want Mr. Moony to stay here too, although he would like Mr. Moony to cease the action of rolling his eyes. Mr. Prongs would also like to warn Mr. Padfoot that if Mr. Padfoot continues to laugh hysterically, he shall be booted off this bed immediately!**_

And the writing beneath the photograph went on and on and onto the next page as well. Harry read what his father and his friends had written. Who was who though? His mind immediately returned to the rather one-sided conversation that he just had Sirius. _"We all became Animagi together in fifth year. I was the dog that you saw earlier, James was a stag."_ A stag. His father was Mr. Prongs… and Mr. Padfoot was Sirius apparently. But who was Mr. Moony? He couldn't have been Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew was a rat, and since the name related to the Animagus form, what would a moon have to do with a rat?

Harry frowned. Maybe this Mr. Moony was Remus Lupin? Now that he thought about it, Sirius had only named three Animagi. He tucked that particular observation into his mind as his thoughts trailed back to the photo. He had memorized his father's face. It really wasn't that hard. It was almost the exact same face that he saw every time he looked in a mirror. But there was something about it that seemed… _different_.

Next to his father was a black-haired just-out-of-Hogwarts teen. His godfather. Apparently, Sirius looked much better when he was still young, before he went to prison. Azkaban had really changed the man. What could have happened in there to affect someone so badly? When Hagrid came back from his three months there, he said it was the most terrifying place ever.

On the other side of James was a sandy-haired, frail-looking male. This, he guessed, was Mr. Moony, Remus. He didn't look like a coward. The boy next to him seemed to fit the description better. Harry's eyes hardened as he looked at the man who would later ruin his entire life. Peter Pettigrew had a mousey look to him. His hair was dull shade of blonde, and he was slightly chubby. Overall, there was nothing about him that stood out. Nothing that made him noticeable or special, and that in turn made Harry hate him all the more.

Biting down on the rage that threatened to overwhelm him, Harry quickly turned the page and continued reading.

_**Mr. Moony doesn't suppose that Mr. Prongs and Mr. Padfoot would stop this ruckus instantly and let the poor man sleep?**_

_**Mr. Prongs protests that this isn't ruckus and suggests for Mr. Moony to let go of such unthinkable hopes.**_

_**Mr. Padfoot nods in agreement and would like to state that since his writing is so close to the next photo, the next contributor to this great work of literacy is to continue below down below this brilliant photo of Messrs. Padfoot and Prongs.**_

_**Mr. Moony raises an eyebrow at this. "Great work of literacy"?**_

And the meaningless chat went on and on but Harry tried to soak up everything that his father wrote. James wrote in a neat slant, a far cry from his own messy scrawl. His hand writing was quite sharp. Sirius's was more curvy and relaxed, and Remus's was small and neat.

And there he sat, studying the photos and looking through a small window into his father's life.

* * *

Sirius walked down the familiar hallway of the Noble House of Black, face taunt. He didn't want to leave Harry when he had finally met him again, but he certainly couldn't make Harry wait outside of the bathroom. He didn't smell anything weird about himself, since he had to live with what he assumed to be a stench for about twelve years. Twelve long, _long_ years.

Prisoners weren't given showers. Wizards would go to the prison every week or two and cast _Scourgify _on all of them. It was a quick and efficient way. Of course, that whole process wasn't out of the good of their hearts. After all, everyone there was a murderer of some sort, criminals guilty of charges of epic proportion. No, they just wanted all the prisoners to not stink up Azkaban in order for the Minister of Magic's visit to go smoothly. They certainly couldn't have the Minister faint from the stench.

Not that anyone ever really noticed. People were too preoccupied with their crimes and everything that the Dementors reminded them of. Sirius and a few others that were strong enough to resist were probably the only ones who were sane enough to realize anything that was happening. And that was how he managed to get that newspaper clipping and find out about Peter's location.

Sneaking out as an Animagus, he swam all the way to land. Azkaban wasn't too far from the mainland; it just had many strong enchantments that were directed to keep Muggles away. Despite that, only pure determination and his desire for revenge drove him to reach land, where he promptly collapsed between a tree and a shrub a bit more inland.

Sirius shook his head. Sometime during his walk to the bathroom, he had stopped and started thinking back to what he had done. It was no time for that. He had done plenty of thinking during his stay in Azkaban. What he needed to do now was take a shower and rid himself of all the dirt and grime that built up and then quickly return to Harry. _Harry_.

At this, he felt a thrill. James's son. God, he remembered how it used to be like. Lily would be cooking in the kitchen, the smell wafting lazily over into the living room where he and James would have been amusing a baby Harry. Remus would simply sit on the couch, watching them.

He was always there, avoiding touching Harry. Sirius was suspicious that his reason was because he was a werewolf. He thought that he was too dangerous to even _touch_ Harry.

Of course, Harry would somehow manage to escape James's grasp and stumble over to the man, giggling happily and clapping his hands excitedly before hugging Remus's legs, head resting on his knees as he spouted out nonsense that no one understood but would pretend that they did.

And that very same boy, now age 13, was _so close to him_. The closest he has been in twelve years. Sirius grinned lightly and arrived to the bathroom with a slightly bounce in his step. It was time to do the duty that James gave him when he was made godfather.

And this time, he wasn't going to fail.

* * *

There's chapter three. A bit more about Sirius. Don't you just love baby Harry? Everybody go "_Awww._" ...Or not. Eheheh... heh... Yeah, I'll shut up now.


	4. Chapter 4

The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

Chapter four. You know the deal. Read and review, and I update. Just don't be mean please.

* * *

"Merlin, you never really appreciate a good shower until you don't get to have one in twelve years." Sirius grinned as he walked into the room, blue towel slung around his neck, and wet strands of hair plastered to his face. "Looks like you found the album… those were the good ol' days… pranking the Slytherins, messing with Minnie…"

Harry's head snapped up at the comment. "Oh… Mr. Black…"

"_Mr. Black_?" Sirius stumbled back, clutching at his chest dramatically. "That stings, Harry. It hurts me that you'd treat your own godfather as if he were a stranger! I can't believe that you're the same boy that kept chucking his food at me every time I came over for dinner… I had to bring a change of clothes whenever I'd visit Prongs' house, you know?" Sirius chuckled at Harry's astonishment.

"Honestly, Harry. Just call me Sirius or Padfoot. Saying 'Mr. Black' makes me think that my father had risen out of the grave to haunt me…" He shuddered before giving a sly grin.

Sirius strode over to the bed and sat on the bed across from Harry, and pointed at the photo that Harry was looking at. "_That_ is one Remus Lupin, chasing after the handsome devil known as Sirius Black, with neon green goo in his hair and an enchanted monkey hanging from his shirt collar that was charmed to think that Remy was its mum." Harry was about to pose a question when a rumble interrupted him.

Raising an eyebrow, Sirius shot him an amused grin. "Hungry, eh?" Harry simply reddened in embarrassment, and nodded after a while.

"Come on! I haven't had a good meal in 'bout twelve years! And trust me, I wouldn't put it past Kreacher to undercook… I dunno… the chicken or something, give us all salmonella, which then lands us in the bathroom for the better part of the remaining night. Of course, I missed going to a clean loo, but I'm afraid that I'm not too attached to it to be willing remain there for hours on end."

Sirius chuckled as he waited for Harry to get off the bed and follow him to the kitchen. Harry was a bit unsteady on his feet, having sat on his behind for a few hours, but was balanced in no time. He held the photo album close to his chest and followed a step behind his godfather.

"I don't understand… Sirius." The name, now that it wasn't spoken out of contempt, sounded foreign on his tongue. Finally, a guardian who didn't hate his guts. "Why would Kreacher do that? And how do you know about salmonella?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

Sirius turned around and walked backwards down the hall to the staircase with ease. "Even if I'm a pureblood," Sirius childishly stuck out his tongue at that. "I hated the whole 'pureblood mantra' that proper purebloods were supposed to follow, and the Black family was a _very_ big supporter of that. _Toujours Pur_. Always pure. And I'm not, according to my family anyway, so Kreacher doesn't think highly of me, not that I particularly want him to. Besides, I just took Muggle Studies to spite my parents… my mum sent me tons of howlers when she found out. As if I needed to hear her screech at _school_, too.

"Prongs called me the white sheep of the Black family… and then Moony slapped his head with a book. According to dear Moony, if I were a sheep, then the whole world would explode. As if _I _could be a _sheep. _You know who Prongs and Moony are, right?" Harry grinned, raising the album up.

"Right, right…" The rest of the trip to the kitchen was in silence, though not an uncomfortable one, thankfully. Sirius was busy in thought, while Harry was looking around at the grandeur of the House of Black. He had read about the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black in a book back in First Year.

Well, he had really been researching about the Malfoys (not that he'd ever admit to researching about his nemesis) and his eye caught that title. Really, anyone would want to find out what all the fuss was with the blood purity and all that. Turns out that that "Noble and Most Ancient House of Black" was a large supporter of Voldemort. Harry had scoffed when he found out. _'Noble indeed.'_

With the exception of Sirius, of course. Now that he looked closer at the man, his bath had done him good. Sirius had shaved, and with the hair went a few years. He looked much younger, though his hair was still as dead as before. He managed to give himself a haircut, although it was a bit crooked. '_A bit is actually an understatement'_, Harry grinned, since one side managed to be four inches longer than the other.

Sirius' skin was rubbed red and free of the dirt that clung to it, though his eyes and cheeks were still sunken in. The robes were plain, but Harry could see that they were better made than his own. They may have fit Sirius at one point, but now… they obviously were a few sizes too large.

Harry shook his head, his stomach growling at him. Having left the Dursley's during dinner and being rather preoccupied with not committing murder at the table (not that he had succeeded at that goal), he was starving.

They walked to the stairs in that manner, remaining in silence. It was dark in the hallway, with the only light sources being a few candles and light shining in from the outside. "Keep your voice down while passing here." Sirius whispered as they walked down the stairs. "You see those curtains up there." He pointed at the top of the stairs. There, on the patch of wall that they just passed was the pair of curtains from before that he had attempted to peek behind.

"Yeah…" Harry stared in confusion.

"Turns out," Sirius resumed walking with Harry following. "That my dear mum had a portrait of herself taken. She attached it to the wall with a permanent sticking charm, the old hag. Can't get rid of it. I tried just before… your parents died." Sirius shook his head before plunging on, refusing to let that topic constantly haunt them both into an awkward silence.

"The point is, if you're loud enough, the curtains move aside to reveal the blasted portrait and the hag starts shrieking at the top of her lungs. And when she starts yelling…" Sirius trailed off. They were entering a door to the left of the staircase. "Right, don't want to scar you with tales of my mum."

"Just how _big_ is this house anyway?" Harry asked, swearing to himself when he saw another hallway of rooms.

Sirius let out a bark. "They call it a house when in reality, it's a bloody maze. I told you, it's too big. And this is the kitchen." Sirius spread his arms as he walked in. The entrance to the room was actually wide enough for him to do that without bumping into the door frame. "_The_ best place in any household, including this one."

The moment his foot passed through the threshold, the room lit up. "It's been charmed to do that automatically. Phoam!"

"Phoam?"

"MASTER SIRIUS!" Harry jumped, startled. There was a loud pop and something flew at Sirius, nearly knocking him down in the process. "Master Sirius returns! Phoam knew that Master Sirius would come back!" Harry stared, before slowly inching his way to the side. From that angle, he saw a typical House Elf ear.

"Master Sirius is bad master! Master Sirius is thin like twig! Phoam must make food for Master Sirius!"

Sirius groaned. "Phoam… if you were a little taller, you'd suffocate me and I'd be dead."

"NO! Master Sirius mustn't die!"

"Then… let. me. BREATH!" Sirius gasped out as Phoam finally let go of his master.

He bowed low before turning towards Harry. Whereas Kreacher was wearing rags, Phoam was wearing something akin to what Muggle waiters wore with an apron.

"Master Sirius brings stranger to house?" Harry could clearly see the House Elf's face. His build was similar to Dobby's, but there was something strange about his face. Harry frowned.

"Ah, yeah. This is my Godson, Harry Potter." There was a tinge of pride in Sirius' voice.

"Master Sirius brings Master Harry to house? Master Harry be Master James' son?" Harry nodded hesitantly.

Phoam smiled brilliantly. "House be lonely when Master Sirius left. Phoam be missing Master Sirius and Master James." He paused, before launching forward again towards a startled Harry. "Master Harry has same scent as Master James." He was silent for a few moments. "MASTER HARRY IS BAD MASTER, TOO!" Harry jolted at that.

"Wha-what?" Harry looked desperately at Sirius, who simply shrugged.

"Master Harry like Master Sirius: thin like twig." Phoam stepped away and shook his large head dejectedly. "Phoam is bad House Elf. Phoam didn't make food for Master Sirius and Master Harry. Phoam is very sorry." His large eyes filled with tears and started sobbing into his apron, and all of a sudden, Harry realized what was so strange about the House Elf.

Phoam was _blind_. It shook him that he could miss such a detail, and an obvious one at that. Where Dobby had green eyes, Phoam's were entirely opaque.

He blew his nose into his apron. "Phoam will make _big _dinner for Masters." He bowed deeply, first to Sirius, then to Harry, before padding over to a fridge. _'No… He can't be blind. How can he see which food is which then?'_

"You must have noticed by now." Sirius appeared right next to Harry. "Phoam is blind. There was an accident when I was little… and well, now he can't see. I suppose you're wondering how he can still move around like that? It's that uncanny thing that House Elves can do. They can do all sorts of bloody stuff… in this case, Phoam does some stuff with his magic, and _voila_! He can see... or something among those lines anyway."

Harry stared at him. "What? It's true! He explained it to me when I was ten or something!" Sirius whined, causing Harry to raise an eyebrow at him. "Fine! Be like that! You can ask him yourself!"

* * *

'_Heh, turns out I never got the chance to ask him…'_ Harry grinned to himself. The moon shone through the window as he got ready for bed. Dinner had been eventful, to say in the least. Phoam kept piling their plates with food, and Sirius had thrown up a few times because he ate too much for his stomach to handle. His stomach must have shrunken a lot over the years.

The first time was terrifying for Harry, but after the third time, he got used to it. Every time Sirius threw up however, Phoam seemed to get more excited and piled more and more food on the plate, all while banishing whatever came out of Sirius's mouth.

Harry turned off the lights and climbed into bed, placing the photo album on the dresser next to the bed, took off his glasses, and held his wand flat in his hands, staring at it. He sighed and waved it. "_Muffliato_."

Now that he was in a Wizarding house, he should be able to cast magic without anyone finding out. Once the shimmering of the spell disappeared, he drifted into sleep.

"_It seems you finally decided to visit me." Tom Riddle scoffed, standing in front of Harry with the Basilisk lying behind him._

"_TOM!" Harry spat out, reaching into his pocket for his wand, only to find a crumpled piece of paper there. "Wha-?" He unfolded it. '_Better hold on tight.'_ He scowled and stuffed it back into his pocket. "What are you doing here, Tom?"_

_Tom chuckled, petting the head of the giant snake slowly, which had risen slowly. The Basilisk stared right at him, and Harry shut his eyes as fast as he could, but just a bit late… But wasn't dead…_

"_I don't know what you're talking about. _I_ belong here. Now the question is, what are you doing here?"_

"_What?"_

"_Haha, it seems that you really have no idea what you're doing here…" Tom rolled his eyes. "Typical. I swear, the people I work with are bleeding morons. Now then, Harry, let's get down to busi – "_

"_AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"_

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Harry's eyes snapped open as he slapped his hands over his mouth. The scream didn't come from him.

"NOO! PLEASE!" There was begging and pleading, which all pierced the silence of the Noble House of Black, straight into Harry's heart.

'_Sirius!_' Harry scrambled out of bed, grabbed his glasses and wand, before going into a full dash towards the room next to him. He whipped open his own door, ignoring the loud slam as it swung and crashed into the wall, grabbing the doorframe with one hand to veer him in a sharp right turn. He slammed open the door to Sirius's room and ran in, flipping on the lights and holding his wand out.

He breathed heavily as his eyes focused on the scene in front of him with difficulty. Black dots littered his sight. He focused on the writhing figure on the bed. "Sirius?"

* * *

_"Bloody idiots. I told you all to keep him here!"_

_"_Relax,_ Tom. You'll get to tell him next time."_

_"Next time? Merlin tell me when that'll happen."_

_

* * *

_Don't ask why Sirius Black knows about salmonella. He just does.

... But seriously, I just wanted to stick that in there somewhere. Didn't really matter where. I dunno... salmonella's one of those words that I like to spell... probably because I spelled it as "cell-moella" or something in the beginning (You know... when you have to watch a video and take notes?). We meet Tom Riddle in this chapter. Any guesses on why he appears in Harry's dream?


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I claiming to own Harry Potter, thus the disclaimer.

A/N: I am so, so, so sorry! I haven't updated since January 31, and I have no other excuse than the fact that I was preoccupied... I got a new tablet two weeks ago, so I was really excited, and all I've really been doing is drawing. And I've currently been busy with the rpg that my forum is making for 1/2 Prince. And I've been busy with stuff that I can' even remember anymore... but I know that they are important! I think...

I really had no idea what I should have written in this chapter... Wow, writer's block so early in the story... o_o

Anyways~ here's a new chapter! I don't know if this is any good or not, because I have been unable to reach my editor/sister... but here it is anyway!

And thank you so much for the reviews, favorites, and alerts! And with every one that I got, I got more and more guilty, and in the end, I forced myself to finish this chapter (actually, this was 75 percent done... I just didn't know what to write for the last 25 percent...), so read, enjoy, and review please!

* * *

"SIRIUS!" Harry rushed over to the bed, ignoring the fact that there might be perpetrator in the room. As he reached his godfather, Sirius jerked off the bed, struggling against his blankets that managed to curl around his neck, slowly strangling it.

Seeing this, Harry attempted to pull away the blanket, but his fingers weren't operating as he wished them to. He prided himself in being a particularly brilliant seeker, being able to catch the snitch in probably every one of his games, but when he needed his hands to do something at this time, they were clammy and stiff.

He bit his lip in frustration and opted to waking up Sirius, grabbing the man's shoulders, ignoring the fact that he could feel every bone through the skin. When Harry touched his shoulders, Sirius moved away on instinct and slapped his hands away.

Harry backed away a bit and looked around the room for something that would help him. "If Master Harry cans move away from Master Sirius, Phoam can help Master Sirius. Harry turned around and saw the House Elf walking steadily into the room with a tray bearing a few mugs floating in the air behind him. He breathed out heavily and stumbled to a nearby chair.

Sometime through the entire event, he had started sweating. He wiped it away with an arm and watched as Phoam waved his long finger at Sirius, causing the man to be enveloped in a dim light. Another wave banished the blanket. With the other hand, he made the table on the other side of the room move to the bedside. A flick caused the tray to settle gently on the table.

Within a few moments, Sirius sat up, gasping as he grasped his shirt breathlessly. "Phoem?" He croaked as he squinted his eyes. "Wha - what happened?"

"Master Sirius haves bad dream, wakes up Master Harry." Phoam reported, levitating a mug towards the man, whose attention snapped towards the boy.

"Harry?"

Harry stood up and strode over to the bed, dragging the large chair with him, wincing as the legs scraped against the wooden floor.

"Harry? Did I wake you?" Sirius looked apologetically at his godson.

He was silent for a few moments as he sat in the chair again, only the chair was near the foot of the bed. "It's… it's okay. I wasn't having a good dream either." He smiled crookedly.

Sirius nodded slowly before finally grabbing the mug that Phoam was holding up for him. "Thanks, Phoam."

"Master Sirius must sleep after Master Sirius drinks! Master Sirius' eyes very dark. Master Sirius must sleep. Master Harry must make Master Sirius go night-night." The House Elf bowed to his master and promptly Disapparated.

Sirius sipped from his mug. "Take the other one." Harry reached for the matching cup and found it pleasantly warm.

He stared at the amber-colored contents. "It's butterbeer, if you're wondering." Sirius smiled amusedly when he caught Harry sniffing the drink. "It's a popular Wizarding drink."

Harry took a small, experimental sip. He didn't know how to describe the flavor, but he certainly understood why it was so famous.

Sirius took another sip. "What year are you in now?"

"I'm going to Third year."

"Third year? That's Hogsmeade year!" At this, Sirius visibly brightened. "Ah, grand old adventures with Prongsy and Moony! Butterbeer from the Three Broomsticks with dearest Rosmelda, chocolate from Honeydukes, brilliant pranking materials from Zonkos, traipsing through the streets, trailing after Prongs as he trails after Evans."

Harry grinned when his parents were mentioned. "Where _is_ Hogsmeade, anyways? How would we be getting there?"

Sirius stared at him. "You should have taken the carriage through the village to get to Hogwarts last year."

Reddening, Harry explained, "Last year, there was this House Elf that wouldn't let me get to school. And so there was this barrier that wouldn't let me and my friend through. And so we missed the train. And ……………" He mumbled the end.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"………………"

"Sorry, Harry, but you're gonna have to speak louder than that, mate. I may be a dog, but in my human form, my senses are the same as any regular human… though maybe a tad bit better."

"And we took my friend's dad's flying car, flew to Hogwarts, and crashed into the Whomping Willow."

"You… _flew_ to Hogwarts? And crashed into that violent tree?" Harry was looking down, so he wasn't aware of the facial expressions sliding on and off of Sirius's face. Finally, a laugh caught his attention. "WICKED!" Harry watched in amazement as Sirius adopted a boyish grin on his face. "James and I would have _never _thought of such a grand entrance onto the Hogwarts ground." He continued laughing before pausing for a question. "What happened afterwards?"

Harry grinned when his godfather didn't disapprove of his past actions, before giving a sheepish smile. "We were caught by Snape, the potions professor, and were nearly expelled."

At this, Sirius gave him a sharp glance. "Snape? Snivilius Tobias Snape?"

"Snivilius?"

"Snivilius, Severus, same thing. The point is, Snape is now a _professor_? Snape? Professor?" He gave a disgusted grimace. "He's lucky you weren't expelled. If you had been," Sirius gave a dark smile. "Something _bad_ might happen to the git, and he may be forever mentally scarred… with witnesses for it."

Harry laughed, took a large gulp from his mug, before staring at its contents. "Why were you screaming earlier?"

Sirius froze with a shadow of his glee stuck on his face. He licked his chapped lips nervously, his eyes flying around the room as he searched for an answer.

And Harry mentally kicked himself. _'Idiot, idiot, _idiot_!!'_ He swallowed hesitantly. "Did you play Quidditch?" Ah, Quidditch. Quite possibly the only thing that can distract the male gender.

Breathing out, Sirius grinned shakily. "What self-respecting Marauder would I be if I didn't play Quidditch? Even Moony, with all the book-worminess in him, played Quidditch every now and then. Of course, he sucked, mind you… but he still played!"

Hermione was right… he really didn't think! Harry cursed at himself in his mind.

"Harry? You there?"

He jolted, before grinning. "Yeah. So you were on the team with my dad? What positions?"

"Ah, James was a chaser… but I… I was a _beater_. Best position on the team, if you asked me. Excellent opportunities to whack bludgers at the Slytherins without getting in trouble, not that we get caught if we went at them the normal way."

Sirius chuckled and Harry laughed. "The normal way?"

"Harry, we wouldn't call ourselves the Marauders if we didn't do anything! We performed the most ingenious and unimaginable things ever through deep schemes that would lead whomever wish to find the culprit in circles."

Harry blinked as his mind slowly deciphered whatever his godfather just spouted out, and drank some more butterbeer to buy himself some time. Merlin, the drink was much better than the pumpkin juice served in the Great Hall.

"Pranking, you mean?"

"…Yeah."

"Why couldn't you say that in the beginning then?!" Harry stifled a bout of chuckles.

"Why, Harry, where would be the fun in that?" Sirius grinned, and Harry saw a glimpse of the man that he used to be. "You play Quidditch? Wait, stupid question. Of course you do! You're a _Potter_. The entire bleeding family's obsessed with the sport! …Unless you took after Lilyflower?" At this realization, he clutched at his chest in mock horror. "Please! Please tell me you play Quidditch, Prongslet!"

At this, Harry burst out laughing at Sirius's theatrics. "Haha, I've been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team since First Year."

Sirius stared. "First Year?"

Harry grinned proudly. Finally, something that he was good at, and he could tell his godfather. "Yup, youngest Seeker in a century."

He stared at Harry adoringly, before looking at him critically, and all of a sudden, Harry felt the same discomfort as he did when he met Oliver for the first time. "You're definitely built for Seeker. James was the captain, but we all knew that I was the brains _and_ the brawn behind the team." Sirius winked and gave a crooked grin. "Well, he did _some_ things, but…" And he shrugged a bit.

"If you were in First Year, then someone must have recommended you…?"

"Ah, McGonagall."

Sirius's mouth fell open. "Minnie? _Minnie _recommended you?"

"And it was all thanks to the Slytherins."

Harry laughed as Sirius looked even more shocked.

"The… the _Slytherins_?" He squeaked out, wide-eyed.

And he had to explain the entire story with Malfoy, Neville, and the Rememberall.

"Wow… Gryffindors lost the House Cup for _seven_ years? In a _row_?"

Harry nodded sadly, before scrunching up his eyebrows. "What did you call me before? Prongslet?"

"Eh, it's a nickname we Marauders made for you when you were younger."

Harry perked up at this.

Harry stared into the bathroom mirror. He and Sirius ended up talking for rest of the night and only stopped because Phoam had Apparated into the room, claiming that breakfast was ready and they needed to go clean themselves up.

"How _stupid_ can you get, Harry?" He murmured to himself, still angry that he had asked Sirius what had dreamed about, _right after he dreamt it_. He should know first-hand, that explaining nightmares was just like reliving it again.

Shaking his head, he quickly turned on the faucet and splashed his face with water, shivering slightly when the freezing water met his skin.

Wiping his face with a towel, he smiled into it. It smelled like it was freshly washed, and reminded him of the ones in Hogwarts. His father was _captain_ of the Quidditch team. How did no one bother to mention that to him? Perhaps he could ask McGonagall for some more stories. From what he gathered, they, being the Marauders, knew McGonagall pretty well. Perhaps it was the same the other way around as well.

* * *

A pair of blue eyes stared down at the paper in his hands.

_WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?_

_It appears that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has fled from home, as Aurors arrived at a Muggle dwelling to undo the effects of accidental magic cast by said Harry Potter. The Ministry officials are not giving any details, but it appears that Mr. Potter has simply disappeared into mid-air._

_And to add to the concern, with the mass murderer, Sirius Black, on the loose, Mr. Potter is not as safe as we would hope…_

Dumbledore sighed heavily before setting the paper down, shaking his head tiredly. He stood and paced, attempting to figure out what his next move should be then.

* * *

"How could you let this story leak out?!" One Cornelius Fudge yelled, grasping at his hair. He knew that before long, owls would start flying in, and he would be held responsible for Harry Potter's well-being. "Find the boy! I don't care _how_ you do it, just _do it_!"

He breathed out, before turning to a bowl that was situated on a table next to the fireplace, contemplating on whether or not he should swallow his pride again and ask for help from the one man he knew could actually do anything.

* * *

A/N: How was it? I hope it wasn't too bad~ Please review and tell me what you think! I'll be able to update faster, especially since I sorta know where I'm gonna take this fanfic. Thank you for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

The Grim

Summary: Harry was about to become the-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Blow-Up-His-Aunt. He was positive it was an Auror in those bushes. And just as he was about to put aside his suspicions, a dog emerged from between the bushes. What? Did the Ministry employ dogs as well?

Chapter six! I haven't updated in ages, so I sincerely apologize. I know I've promised to update, but... yeah. Well, it's here now.

I actually had no idea how I was going to go about this chapter. I know where I want to take this story, but getting there seems to be a bit tough. I have no excuses for why I didn't update. I wanted to write it. I really did. But at the same time, I didn't. And that feeling _sucks_.

Hopefully, this isn't an utter disappointment. Enjoy!

Oh yeah, chapters one through five have been edited as well.

* * *

Arthur Weasley walked into the room and kissed his wife, who was at the stove single-handedly creating breakfast for a family of nine.

"Good morning, Molly dear," he greeted as he sat down at the head of the table in the cluttered kitchen of The Burrow, carefully avoiding everything that was floating in the air.

"Good morning? Yes, yes, it'll be a good morning, if you could go sort out your children!"

'_Oh dear… it's one of _those_ days.'_ Arthur absent-mindedly thought as he wondered how he was supposed to placate his wife. It wasn't as though he was not aware of what happened in his house. He just simply chose to overlook what his kids did. They could handle themselves, and even as they landed themselves into a little trouble, they could usually pull themselves out of said trouble.

"Ginny and Percy are both stuck in their rooms; she's moping in her room because of what happened last year at Hogwarts, and he's doing Merlin knows what in there. Percy's too _pale,_ Arthur! He never goes out and plays Quidditch with the boys. Fred and George are getting out of hand. They're always shaking the house with whatever they're doing in _their_ room. Charlie's going back to Romania in a week or so. Ron spends all his time playing Quidditch and worrying over that rat of his, who he _swears _is getting thinner by the day.

"And Bill! Bill wants a tattoo! A _tattoo_." At this, the stout mother turned around, wand in hand and pan in the other. "He can't have a _tattoo_, not after that _hair_ of his and that _earring_."

"There is _nothing_ wrong with my hair. Good morning, mum. Good morning, dad." Bill sat down at the table, and placed a pancake onto his place, pancake dangling precariously from a fork. Charlie entered the room moments later, echoing his brother.

Molly wiped her hands and cast a charm to have all the dishes wash themselves. "Good morning. Where's your brother and sister?"

"Where else? Stuck in their rooms"

"Where they've been all week." Fred and George Weasley squeezed through the doorway, side by side.

"Good morning, mummy dearest, daddy dearest, Charlie dearest, Billie dearest," they chorused. Bill rolled his eyes at the twins, while Charlie sniggered at him, earning a glare from his older brother.

Arthur gave a nervous chuckle when his wife gave him a pointed look. "Alright, dear. I'll have a talk with them tonight." Molly stared at him a bit more. "Promise."

Ron yawned widely as he entered the kitchen. "Mor – " He was cut off by another jaw-splitting yawn. "Morning, everyone." He plopped down in an open seat and helped himself to some toast.

"Oh, way to be lazy, Ron." The twins stated in unison. Fred buttered a slice of bread and placed in on George's plate, while George, ignoring Bill's indignant cry of '_Hey!_', stole half of Bill's pancake and placed it on Fred's plate.

"You can't expect me to greet _everyone_, do you?"

"We did."

Ron slapped his forehead, before opening his mouth. "Good – "

"Just kidding. We really don't need"

"You to tell us everyone's name. Though we"

"Did say everyone's name when"

"We came in." Fred and George grinned at each other, before taking a drink. At. The. Exact. Same. Time.

Ron stared blankly at them, before continuing with his meal.

A tawny owl flew into the kitchen and landed on the perch next to the kitchen table, sticking its leg out. Arthur took the roll of newspaper, slipped five knuts into the brown pouch attached to its other leg, and watched owl fly off. He placed a piece of toast into his mouth, opened the _Daily Prophet_, and promptly choked.

Coughing, he accepted the mug of coffee Charlie handed him, and quickly drank.

"Dad?"

"Arthur? What's the matter?"

Arthur coughed a bit more, before clearing his throat.

"_HARRY POTTER, MISSING AND IN DANGER_

_It appears that Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, has fled from home, as Aurors arrived at a Muggle dwelling to undo the effects of accidental magic cast by said Harry Potter. Last night, over dinner apparently, Mr. Potter simply up and left his home, where he lived with his Muggle aunt and uncle. Reporters swore, under the Aurors watchful eyes, never to reveal Mr. Potter's address. They're eyes aren't watchful enough, though, since no one knows where the Boy-Who-Lived has gone off to. The Ministry officials are not giving the public any details on the matter and are refusing to comment, but it appears that Mr. Potter has disappeared into mid-air, and not by Disapparating, since Mr. Potter is underage._

_And to add to the concern, with the mass murderer, Sirius Black, on the loose, Mr. Potter is not as safe as we would hope. Sirius Black, the first and only one to escape from the infamous Wizard prison Azkaban, is a danger to all, Wizards and Muggles alike. However, Mr. Potter may be in more danger than we all realize. After all, Black is known to be You-Know-Who's right hand man and his most devoted follower._

_There is some belief that Black may be after Mr. Potter, especially since it was due to the incident at the Potters' home, twelve years ago, that caused his Lord's downfall. Who is to say that Black won't go after Mr. Potter now, in revenge for his Master? …"_

"And it goes on and on." Arthur looked up to see his stunned family. The whole situation would have been hilarious, if it weren't for the cause of the shock. His eyes widened when they all started speaking at once.

Through the din and chaos, no one noticed that Ron had run back upstairs.

* * *

Hermione Granger grinned as she entered the dining room and strode confidently to her parents, hair tied in a bun. It was a good day. The sun was shining brightly, the canaries they owned were happily chirping away in the corner, and the skies were clear for once. She had a _wonderfully_ pleasant dream about graduating from Hogwarts with flying colors and the best scores since the opening of the school.

Her thoughts lingered on her dream.

'_No, not dream.'_ She thought furiously. _'A soon-to-be reality.'_ And she nodded resolutely to herself. Now if only she could get Harry and Ron to study by themselves without any pushing from her side.

"Good morning, mum. Good morning, dad." She gave them both a kiss, and walked over to the window, where an owl waited for her to open it. It hooted twice, and stuck out its leg. She took the newspaper it delivered, placed five knuts in its pouch, and fed it a piece of toast she had grabbed from the table on the way to the window.

She stood there, watching it fly off into the distance, an anticipating glee growing in her chest. She was anxious for the school year to start again. Despite what happened near the end of the previous two years, Hermione was sure that this year would be normal, and she couldn't wait to be back in class.

With a satisfied smile, she turned to sit at the table. Opening the newspaper, she stared at the pictures of Harry Potter and Sirius Black. Her eyes caught sight of the large and glaring headline. Hermione let out a squeak and her hands shook.

"Is something the matter, dear?" Mrs. Ophelia Granger looked up from her book and Mr. Philip Granger glanced at her from his copy of _the Daily Telegraph_.

Hermione immediately folded the newspaper in half and plastered on a grin. "Nothing's wrong, mum. I just… I just sat down in a bad position."

Ophelia just rose an eyebrow at her daughter's excuse, but trusted Hermione's judgment, and continued spooning cereal into her mouth, both eyes focused on her novel. Philip simply shook his head before reading his newspaper again. If his daughter didn't want to tell them, then it wasn't their place to pry. And Hermione knew what she was doing. If she needed their help, she would ask them. She was always mature and independent, bless her.

Hermione calmly finished her cereal and low-fat milk, before quietly excusing herself from the table, newspaper in one hand. Suddenly, the sun wasn't shining quite as brightly, the clear day had approaching storm clouds in the horizon, and the happy trilling of her birds grated on her eardrums.

'_Oh Harry, what did you do_ now_?'_

* * *

"Wow…"

Harry grinned proudly.

"Just… this is amazing, Harry. I… I'm not even kidding here. I honestly believe I'm in love."

Harry tried to hold in his laughter as best as he could at the sight in front of him, his cheeks swelling with air. His cheeks were turning red, but he couldn't take a breath. If he tried to, he wasn't positive that he wouldn't laugh.

"Oh, you're lovely. Simply lovely."

At this, Harry burst out laughing, hands clutching his stomach as he double over, howling. After a minute or so, he sat back up, shoulders shaking every now and then with silent mirth. Sirius was lounging in the couch across from him with an affronted look on his face, which sent Harry into another set of chortles.

"Excuse me, but can you quit all that laughing? Me and my Nimbus 2000 are getting insulted!" Sirius stuck out his tongue as he continued caressing the glistening, polished wood.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"…Me and _your_ Nimbus 2000 are getting insulted. Happy? Merlin, you're getting stingy."

Harry scoffed.

"But _honestly_, why couldn't we have had this broom when we were kids? This is almost good as my motorcycle." Sirius started nuzzling the broomstick. "Can I take it for a test run? Pretty please? With a chocolate frog on top?" His eyes almost sparkled and he sent a wide-eyed look towards the boy in front of him.

"I- I don't think so… It's clear today, I think." Harry leaned back in his seat and peeked out of the curtains. There were many people that briskly walked by, never giving the house that they were in a single glance. Like the Leaky Cauldron, people's eyes seemed to slide straight from Number Thirteen to Number Eleven, or vice-versa, should they look. "Yeah, it's bright outside and there aren't any clouds up in the air. Sorry, Padfoot." Harry gave a crooked smile and furrowed his brows apologetically.

"But Prongs!" Sirius whined. "You're such a kill joy. That's supposed to be Moony's job, remember?"

The air in his lungs was starting to hurt him. "S-Sirius?" he stuttered. He was breathing in, but the air refused to leave his body.

Sirius looked at him strangely. "J-James?" After a few moments, he broke out into a grin. "Moony must have set you up for this! He must still be angry from when I clawed up his first-edition, signed book thingy while I was Padfoot, because some moron decided to slip the dog some Firewhiskey! Cut a bloke some pity, especially since he was sick for days on end due to the bloody alcohol. Who the _hell_ feeds the dog alcohol?" He shook his head angrily, before giving a pitiful smile to Harry. "Can I take the broom for a ride _now_?"

Harry stiffened. _'How would my father respond?'_ And that was a dilemma, because he obviously didn't know what his father would do. _'What happened? Sirius was just fine when we were having breakfast...' _

'_Oh, come on! __Never mind how Sirius was like at breakfast. Now you've got to deal with how Sirius is like_now_. _Are you a Potter or not? You've faced worse. Don't tell me that the great Harry Potter can't do something as simple as pretending to be his father!'

'_I can't act as my dad if I don't _know _him!'_

'_When has not knowing anything ever stopped you? And besides, you've mimicked Goyle, and you don't have the pleasure of saying that you know _him_.'_

'_Goyle is an _idiot_. It's easy to – '_

'_Act like a buffoon? I was wondering if you were ever going to realize that you were insulting yourself in that thought.'_

Harry flashed a grin. "Sorry, Padfoot!" he sang. "Otherwise, Moony's gonna have my head. Besides," _'Think '_Hermione_'_,_'_ "not only was the book first-edition, there's only ten, give or take, in existence! And he won it in some contest or something. I don't think he's going to forgive you anytime soon."

Through reading the comments in the album, he managed to infer that while his dad and Sirius were pranksters through and through, Remus, like Hermione, was the bookworm-ish type of person who kept his friends in check, and Peter was the follower who had _some_ talent in Charms, though he learned that his mum was a natural at Charms despite being Muggle-born.

"Oh… Merlin, I knew that shifting into Padfoot was a bad idea… why didn't you stop me?"

Raising an eyebrow, Harry tilted his head to the side slightly.

"Fine, be like that."

Sirius stretched, his arms spreading widely while the racing broom was balancing on his legs, before draping them behind the couch. "Did you know that even though the hag I have to call mum kicked the bucket, she had a portrait installed in the house? Can't take it off or burn it." He grimaced. "She wants to make my life miserable even in death, the bitch."

Harry looked startled. He thought that 'bitch' was more of a Muggle term. Looking quizzically at Sirius, he lightly commented, "Bitch?"

"Dunno… I heard it when wandering through Muggle London the other day. Apparently, it's the Muggle equivalent to… you know… the M word?" Sirius shrugged helplessly.

Harry stared blankly at him. Having been raised by the Dursleys and having to live by their rules for eleven years had him spontaneously associating the 'M word' with 'magic', the 'B word' with 'broomstick', and so on. After a few seconds, he remembered the incident back in Second Year.

"Oh." He responded, not knowing exactly what to say, though he hoped that Sirius didn't notice his delay in answering. He didn't know much about Sirius's mum. He only knew that Sirius probably hated her more than Snape hated him. And his relationship with Snape was already an extreme.

Suddenly, something started flashing in the corner of his eye.

"We've got owls, Prongsy." Sirius grinned cheekily. "I'm letting them through the wards now. How much do you wanna bet that they're from my wonderful fangirls who're after my devilishly handsome looks?"

_'Who could be owling us? The Ministry? Merlin, I hope they didn't put trackers on the owls. They'd find us immediately!'_

Frozen on the couch, Harry didn't even _think_ of a retort as he waited for the familiar Ministry owl that he remembered from the previous summer to glide into the room.

* * *

So there's chapter six.

I've finally settled on one way to make Sirius appear slightly insane. Now I have to think of other ways. Any suggestions?

I've decided to name Hermione's parents. Ron's parents have names, so why not Hermione's parents? Jo mentioned that "Hermione" was a name she got from Shakespeare's Winter Tale, so I wanted to continue on that trend and name Hermione's mum "Ophelia" from Hamlet and name Hermione's dad "Philip" from Taming of the Shrew. Yay for Shakespearean names.


End file.
